When he left these premises, three years ago, I took them from him; or rather--to deal frankly with you,--he placed me in them rent-free, for, I'm not ashamed to confess it, I've had losses, and heavy ones; and, if it hadn't been for him, I don't know where I should have been.

Mr.Wood, Sir," he added, with much emotion, "is one of the best of men, and would be the happiest, were it not that--" and he hesitated.
"Well, Sir ?" cried the other, eagerly.
"His wife is still living," returned Kneebone, drily.
"I understand," replied the stranger, unable to repress a smile.

"But, it strikes me, I've heard that Mrs.Wood was once a favourite of yours." "So she was," replied the woollen-draper, helping himself to an enormous pinch of snuff with the air of a man who does not dislike to be rallied about his gallantry,--"so she was.

But those days are over--quite over.
Since her husband has laid me under such a weight of obligation, I couldn't, in honour, continue--hem!" and he took another explanatory pinch.

"Added to which, she is neither so young as she was, nor, is her temper by any means improved--hem!" "Say no more on the subject, Sir," observed the stranger, gravely; "but let us turn to a more agreeable one--her daughter." "That is a far more agreeable one, I must confess," returned Kneebone, with a self-sufficient smirk.
The stranger looked at him as if strongly disposed to chastise his impertinence.
"Is she married ?" he asked, after a brief pause.
"Married!--no--no," replied the woollen-draper.